You Should Know By Now
by Clearly Odd
Summary: There are few things Erik likes better than just being able to watch Charles come undone. Written for the X-Men First Class kink meme


This was, hands down, Erik's favorite thing. Well. Maybe not his favorite thing ever, because there was something to be said for the smooth comfort of metal singing in his senses, or the gentle warmth that settled softly in Erik's mind when Charles was nearby, or maybe even the look of bright hope and wonder young mutants would direct at him when he showed them that they weren't alone. But of bed things, this was definitely Erik's favorite.

If Charles knew that, he'd probably tease Erik and call him stupid things like "endearingly vanilla," and "sweet." Then again, it was a good bet Charles probably already knew, and for all the man seemed to suffer from one of the worst cases of foot-in-mouth Erik had ever had the displeasure of seeing, experiencing, and taking the heat for, Charles _did_ seem to know when not to tease people about things, and when to encourage someone's simple enjoyment of something.

The fact that Erik's simple enjoyment came from spreading Charles out on their bed and jerking him off was probably a deciding factor in Charles not saying anything about it, too.

It wasn't something Erik indulged in often—rather, it wasn't something Charles would allow Erik to indulge in often. Charles was a wonderful lover, and if Erik had to choose one word to describe Charles' technique, it would be "unselfish" (seconded by "enthusiastic"). Not that Charles didn't seek his own pleasure in their coupling, but he seemed to delight so thoroughly in giving Erik what _he_ wanted that Erik couldn't help but feel that that was part of what got Charles off in the first place.

Aside from all that, though, Charles was flexible, both in body and mind, and willing to try anything at least once. Maybe twice if it hadn't been a total disaster. A true scientist, he experimented with every position and every toy and every desirable use of their powers he could think of, and Erik was happy to follow suit (he was still a bit dubious on the applications of food in bed, often feeling wasteful and more than a little sticky afterwards, but he was rather bad at denying Charles). The things Charles shied away from, however, seemed to be some of the things that Erik enjoyed the most. Things like this.

Mostly, Erik enjoyed watching Charles, seeing him, drinking in the pleasure on his face and Charles… well, Charles got embarrassed.

"I can't imagine why you would want to watch me do anything," Charles had said once, "I can do things that make no use of your sense of sight at all. Very, very nice things."

"If you can't imagine, why don't you take a look?" Erik offered, only half in jest.

Charles had looked away, mumbled a refusal, and changed the subject.

Charles didn't quite understand how the element of seeing what he was doing appealed to Erik.

Actually, it was mostly that Charles didn't understand why looking at _him_ appealed to Erik.

It wasn't as though Charles thought himself _unattractive_, just… nothing worth watching. As much as Charles would never come out and say that, Erik knew Charles better than he thought he would ever know anyone and the very idea that Charles didn't think himself worth something—worth anything of Erik's was as laughable as it was terribly sad. And so Erik made a point to enjoy these moments when he got them.

These moments being the ones where Erik laid Charles down on the light blue sheets of their bed, stripped him bare, and watched him hungrily while giving him the very best hand job he could perform (which was a very good one, indeed, if Erik did say so, himself).

It always started with his mouth, the red and soft and wet mouth that drove Erik mad as much as it kept him grounded to Charles. Soft kisses turned into hard kisses turned into things that weren't kisses at all so much as a tangle of tongues and shared breath between brushing lips. And while Charles was distracted by that, Erik could push him down, lay him out on his back, and work at his shirt. Buttons popped open with practiced ease and Erik would pull himself from Charles' mouth to lave lips and tongue down the side of Charles' throat, to his collar bones, to his sternum. He might detour at a nipple and suck or bite until Charles moaned—always so sensitive right there, and damn if they didn't have fun with that, too—but would always return to his goal. Erik would continue across Charles' taut stomach and only stop at the waistband of his slacks.

The pants were next to go and here, usually, Charles would try to engage Erik again, to pull him up into kisses and to shuck Erik's clothes, too, and to make sure Erik got as good as he was giving. And usually, Erik might just pull away, aim a devilish grin at Charles and make him wait out whatever it was Erik had planned. This time, though, some sort of sugary sentimentality seemed to have coated Erik's brain and he had grasped Charles' hands and placed them gently back on the bed. "Let me." He said.

Charles made a noise of indecision, his fingers twitching restlessly against the sheets, but Erik was already stroking hands through Charles' hair and stilling the slighter man with kisses. "Let me do this. Let me take care of you this time." He whispered, "Let this just be about you."

And for all Charles commanded everyone's attention when he spoke, when he instructed, when he entered a room, it was never about him. Focus slid away from him like water down tile, swirling to where it needed to be—on lessons, on training, on their common goals, and never on Charles. So to allow someone to make it all about _him_… The telepath remained indecisive, but nodded when Erik stretched up and breathed in his ear, "_please._"

The trousers joined the shirt on the floor, and Charles' underpants followed in short order. Erik kneeled over Charles, still wearing the track pants and t-shirt he'd been ambushed in, and stroked his hands down bare thighs while he watched the muscles twitch beneath his fingers. "Beautiful." He murmured, running his fingers back up, pressing them into the junction of hip and thigh.

Charles sighed at the feeling, but turned his head away from Erik and what he was saying. Erik frowned. "I mean it," He said, soft and firm, wrapping his hands possessively around slim hips, "You know I do."

"That doesn't mean," Charles huffed out a laugh, cutting off his own words.

"Doesn't mean what?" Erik asked, even as he finally curled his fingers around Charles' straining erection.

Charles gasped and shook his head, scrambling to get his feet flat on the bed in a bid for leverage.

"Tell me, Charles." Erik demanded quietly as he slowly, so slowly started running his hand up and down smooth heated skin.

His voice was soft but the tone left room for nothing but an answer and Charles flushed as he glanced up at Erik briefly. "You mean it," He gasped, "Doesn't make it true."

Erik's hand stilled and pulled away completely, and Charles whined. "Erik- _please_."

The lubricant they had brilliantly decided to transfer into a discrete metal tin found Erik's palm and he dipped his fingers in before bringing them back to Charles' cock. The pace was still slow—more a tease than a proper way to bring someone off, and Charles' desperate search for leverage continued.

"You could look," Erik said, holding onto Charles' hip with his free hand, preventing him from thrusting up properly, "You could look and see what I see, why don't you?"

Charles gasped when Erik rubbed his thumb slowly from the underside of his head to his slit. "Hardly a fair interrogation technique." Charles replied shakily.

"I could stop," Erik's hand stilled, though he made no move to let go.

"_No_," The word was a drawn out groan, accompanied by Charles reaching for Erik's wrist, as if to move it himself.

The motion continued, Erik twisting his grip on the downstroke and causing Charles to gasp again. "I won't- look. Won't see anything different," The telepath panted, "And that's…"

_That's worse_, a very tangible voice finished in Erik's mind.

Erik paused again and Charles let out a strangled noise of frustration. "Stop- stop _stopping_." He demanded breathlessly.

He moaned in relief when Erik finally continued, the metal bender's efforts doubled. He released Charles' hips to free a hand to gently roll Charles' balls between his fingers and then drag one fingertip teasingly across his perineum. Charles panted, moaned in encouragement, and Erik watched. The flush from before had spread all the way down to Charles' chest, part embarrassment, but more arousal than anything. That red, wonderful mouth was parted in panting and Erik could see Charles' tongue dart out to drag across his lips. Erik's own cock twitched in his pants at the memory of Charles' tongue on him, anywhere and everywhere.

Charles' hair was a wonderful mess, splayed out around his head in a tangled brown halo, falling into eyes Erik wished would open, because Charles could say what he liked, but there was nothing more erotic to Erik than just seeing and being _seen_. And perhaps Charles had heard that thought, because his eyes snapped open in the next moment, a ring of bright water blue around blown pupils searching for Erik's gaze. Erik met his eyes and held them before purposefully raking his gaze down Charles' body.

Erik consciously followed the path his mouth had mapped earlier, down Charles' throat, across collar bones, over the heaving chest and down his stomach to where Erik still had his hand wrapped around Charles' cock, jerking him off with more fervor than finesse now. He projected his pleasure and his desire as directly as he knew how and knew he'd hit home and Charles gasped and jerked, hips pumping frantically against Erik's hand. "Erik…" Charles gasped, low and raw and so close to the edge.

Purposefully, Erik settled himself down on Charles' thigh, allowing the other man to feel his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants.

_This is what you do to me._

The thought was less directed, Erik somewhat distracted by the relieving pressure against his groin, but Charles' strangled groan told him he'd made it home. "Beautiful." Erik murmured again, leaning down and pushing his lips to Charles' once more. _You should know by now_.

Erik could feel Charles' balls draw up in his hand and with a few more strokes, Charles came across Erik's hand and his own stomach, his cry of release muffled against Erik's mouth.

Erik stroked Charles through the last shudders of orgasm before releasing him and shifting to his side as he waited for Charles to catch his breath. "I hate it when you do that to me."

"You've made a bit of a mess that suggests otherwise." Erik hummed through a small grin.

Charles rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Erik, the blush on his face predominantly embarrassment again. Erik frowned and, after wiping his hand dry on a far patch of the sheets, reached up to turn Charles' face back towards him. The thing about being in a relationship with a telepath was that you didn't always need to express yourself in words. Unfortunately, sometimes it helped. "I love you, you know." Erik told Charles quietly, mouths close enough together that his lips brushed over Charles' when he spoke.

Charles' features softened. "I do know." He said, and pushed closer to lean his forehead against Erik's. _I love you, too_.

"I should hope so," Erik smirked, "I would certainly feel put out if you left me to take care of myself after something like that."

Charles laughed and reached over to slide a hand under the hem of Erik's shirt. "Well, I wouldn't want that."

Erik smiled in return, maybe because Charles was flexible and adventurous and was usually able to wring an amazing orgasm out of him, or maybe just because Charles was smiling, too. And like the feeling of metal to his mind, like the look in the eyes of the people they took under their care, like watching Charles come undone beneath his hands, it was a beautiful thing.


End file.
